


I Still Feel The Same

by charismatics



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Post-Split, Ryden, Rydon, Short, but mostly canon, drunk!Brendon cries because of Ryan, only a little bit of angst, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8743210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charismatics/pseuds/charismatics
Summary: In which 2016 Brendon and Ryan go to the same Halloween party, accidentally wearing matching couples costumes, and end up trying to mend old wounds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is a lot shorter than i thought it was when i wrote it but oh well! It started as just a little light-hearted thing where Ryan and Brendon turn up to the same party in an accidental matching couples costume but it turned into post-split sadness/fluff (because I feel the need to write a lot about post-split...it just makes me v emotional). Also, Brendon isn't with Sarah in this, he's just very single and very in love with Ryan. Apologies for any mistakes, its almost 3am but I tried my best to correct them all! Anyway, enjoy!!

"Oh I'm totally fucking going as Harley Quinn," I laugh down the phone.

"You actually should though man," Spencer replies, most probably finding the idea of me in pigtails and booty shorts completely hilarious.

"Oh fuck off," I chuckle.

"Seriously, man, I'll pay you." Spencer teases.

"I don't need your money!" I shake my head to myself. "I am not going to Adam Levine's fucking halloween party in drag."

"Ok, I'll compromise...you can be male Harley Quinn!" Spencer retaliates. I'm silent for a minute, considering my options.

"Fine-"

"Yes!" Spencer laughs.

"-But only if I get to pick your costume too." I bargain.

"Deal. You still need to wear the booty shorts though," Spencer sniggers.

"Up yours Spence," I say defeatedly.

*************  
I open my eyes to the sight of half-red, half-blue booty shorts hanging on my wardrobe and staring me in the face mockingly. I can't believe I even agreed to Spencers bullshit idea in the first place.

By the time I've rolled out of bed and showered, the makeup artist is already knocking at the door. I had to get someone round to do my makeup, obviously. Ryan was always good at that stuff but I could never get the hang of it. Sometimes Ryan would do it for me. He'd offer to do my makeup every show but I refused most nights. I wasn't good at handling the sensory overload that came with Ryan touching my face with the side of his hand when he drew on my eyelids, or how he looked when he was concentrating really hard to make a straight line. With his tongue between his lips and his brows slightly furrowed, and an intensity in his usually-soft brown eyes.

Inevitably, I had trouble fitting into my idiotic booty shorts. Who the fuck do they make those things for anyway? I could hardly get them past my thighs. Once I'd finally actually got them to sit on my hips, I was sure to send an angry text message to Spencer. Something about fuck you and fuck this and that Spencer had better look fucking hilarious to make up for this.

I look in the mirror once I'm done. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I look kind of good. Actually scratch that- really good. But Spencer is still gonna laugh his ass off.

When he arrives to pick me up, Spencer wolf whistles from the driver's seat of his car.

"Oh fuck off!" I shout as I walk down my driveway towards his BMW parked at the end of it.

"Hey, you're the one who agreed to it. Your ass looks killer in those shorts by the way." He teases.

"I only agreed because I thought it was a two way deal. Your costume is no where near as bad as mine!" I complain. I had Spencer dress as Hagrid from Harry Potter, but I was disappointed with the way it turned out. He looks nowhere near as funny as I had imagined he would; in fact, he almost pulls off the beard.

I get in the passenger seat. "Just drive." I mutter. "These shorts are starting to chafe."

************

"He's here." Zack slurs after stumbling over to me and plonking himself down on the sofa.

"Who's here?" I slur back, sufficiently drunk off Adam Levine's expensive beer. Zack rolls his eyes.

"Stop playing ignorant, you dick." Zack retorts and then laughs a little to himself.

It takes a moment for my drunken brain to process who the 'he' Zack is talking about is.

Ryan.

Of course it's fucking Ryan. The first man I think of when someone says 'he'. The first man I think of when I wake up. The first man I think of when I'm- whatever. I'm not going to think about that right now.

"Ryan." I say. It's not a question. I already know its him.

Zack nods. "He's dressed as that- that guy." He makes some gesture I don't get and then clicks his fingers as if this will help him remember the character's name. "I can't remember his name."

I don't really care who he's dressed as to be honest. All I care about is not running into him. A sickly feeling has welled in the pit of my stomach and my hands have started shaking.

I can't run into him. I can't let him see the way my pupils dilate when I look at him. There's no fucking way I can let him see how desperate I am for him.

"I'm leaving." I down what's left in my beer bottle and stand up abruptly.

"Noo!!" Zack reaches out for my legs intoxicatedly. "Don't let that DICK ruin your night." He shouts the word "dick". I'm tipsy, but sober enough to be embarrassed by this.

"Shut up, Zack," I say through my teeth, swatting his arm away.

When I stand up, I come to the realisation that I have to pee. Urgently. A sense of dread courses through my veins. I need to piss, which means I need to go to the bathroom...Which is on the other side of the house. Which means I'm gonna run into a lot of people on the way. Which means I could run into Ryan. Fuck.

I try to keep my head down as I push through hoards of people, checking out of the side of eye if I can see anyone who looks remotely like Ryan. I turn my head away whenever I see a tall boy with brown hair. I'm still on edge, and my hands won't stop shaking even once I've gotten to the bathroom safely. I go in and lock the door, taking a minute to catch my breath. I'm okay, i'm okay, i'm okay.

It's pathetic how scared I am of seeing him.

Once I'm done, I stare at the wall for a minute, bracing myself for the journey back to the front door. I got here safely enough, but who's to say I won't bump into him now? The sense of dread is ever apparent. It's kind of ironic, actually, that I'm genuinely terrified of seeing a man who used to be my best friend.

I start to push through the mob again. I'm using the same method as last time, keeping my head down and watching out for Ryan out of the side of my eye. I'm about halfway there when I've calmed enough to raise my head, telling myself he probably isn't even here anyway. Zack's clearly drunk, and he probably didn't even see Ryan, just some dude that looked like hi-

"Brendon? Holy shit, Bren is that you?" I'd recognise that voice even if it _hadn't_ been running through my head everyday. I torture myself with that voice, looking up interviews and songs of his. Playing YouTube videos out loud and closing my eyes so I can pretend he's next to me, speaking to me.

I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. I keep my head down and try to keep walking. A skinny hand grabs at my arm.

"Brendon?" He asks again. I lift my head and immediately regret it.

He's handsome as ever. He's aged a bit- there are laughter lines around his eyes but these only enhance his attractiveness. I take in his face for a second. It's painted white and his mouth is red and painted to look cut at the sides. He's The Joker. He's dressed as the fucking Joker. As in, boyfriend-to-Harley-Quinn...Who I'm dressed as. We're wearing a fucking couples costume.

Concern clouds his brown eyes when he sees the tears in my own. "Are you okay?" He asks.

I can only let out a choked "Ryan."

"Yeah." He answers as if it was a question.

"Oh my God Ryan." I repeat. My heart is racing now and the beer I downed before is going to my head.

"Hey, you're Harley Quinn!" He laughs, trying to make the atmosphere more light-hearted. I manage a half-smile back. "We match!" He grins. It's painful how unbelievably pretty he is, even with white face paint on. He's sprayed his floppy hair green with that hair-color-in-a-can stuff, and messed it up with his hands and it just made him look even better. I can't even comprehend how badly I want to kiss him right now.

"I haven't seen you in years." I say quietly.

Ryan goes serious. "Yeah." He agrees.

"Where were you Ryan?" I whisper. I feel warm tears roll down from my eyes. Ryan reaches out and wipes them away with his thumb. I hold my breath and try to repress all those memories of how I felt when he used to touch me like this doing my makeup, back when we were kids.

"Its ok, Bren." He whispers.

"Don't do that." I say, angry now. I feel light headed from the alcohol.

"Do what?"

"Lead me on! You know exactly what you're doing!" I laugh in disbelief.

"I'm just being friendly!" He frowns. "You're drunk."

"Oh, fuck OFF Ryan Ross!" I slur before turning on my heel and waltzing off to sit and brood on the sofa behind me.

I curl up with another bottle of beer and sit drinking it with a moody expression on my face, watching Ryan walk off. How can he do this to me? I've spent years driving myself crazy over him. All he had to do was touch me and all the work I've done trying to stop myself from loving him has been reversed. The tears won't stop rolling.

"Lovers tiff?" A girl next to me asks.

"What?" I sniffle.

"It's so cute that you're wearing matching costumes though." She smiles.

"Oh- Ryan- me and him aren't...He's not- We're not together. He's straight." I mumble.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No- no, you didn't." I shake my head. "It's fine."

"Do you want some tissue?" She asks.

"I'll get some myself." I tell her, getting up. I'm not in the mood for conversation right now. I give the girl a nod before shuffling through to the bathroom, keeping my head down for a different reason this time. 

"Bren listen to me." I hear a voice call from behind me.

"You dick! Just listen to me!" He calls again. I keep walking. He grabs the side of my shirt at the waist and balls it up in his fist to stop me from walking further. I can't help but think this is what he'd do if he was kissing me.

"What the fuck do you want?" The tears have started again and they make me feel so small and pathetic in front of the older boy.

"Just talk to me." Ryan says. "Why won't you listen to me?"

"Answer my question. Where were you?" My voice cracks.

"What do you mean?" He bites his lip.

"I mean why don't you reply to my texts?" I ask. 

"Because we fell out. I left the band, you hate me." He lists as if his answer was obvious.

"I don't hate you." I answer. "I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He asks. I nod.

"I love you." He whispers, so faint that I'm half convinced I imagined it. "I didn't talk to you because I didn't want to fall even more in love with the bandmate I'd just left. And I couldn't swallow my pride."

My mind races. He loves me. Ryan Ross loves me. The boy of my dreams loves me. The boy who was "straight" loves me. The boy who I have thought about every single night before I went to sleep for the last few years loves me. I can't even begin to understand this. So I don't try. Instead, I just cup his face and press my lips onto his softly. His eyes flutter shut and I keep mine open a moment just to admire his long, dark eyelashes.

I pull away to take in his face. There are patches in his white face paint that give away the fact he's been crying too.

"I missed you so bad. You're my soulmate, you know. You always have been." I say quietly.

"I know." He says.

"Even when we were teenagers I loved you. You don't know how many times I almost told you I loved you. I've spent all these years loving you." I tell him honestly. He smiles and I can see the warmth in his eyes when he looks at me. I feel my heart flutter in the same way that it used to when he used to rest his hand on my face while he did my makeup. Sure, he's left the band but the huge fight we had seemed to dissolve the moment we laid eyes on each other. Because we're in love.

Things have changed for me, and we're not the same kids that we used to be, but that’s okay. I still feel the same.


End file.
